


Just Acting

by sourirs (sourirpourmoi)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M, SDCC, and then fluff, but its above 1.5k, i dno, i wrote an rpf, im so shit at tagging, im sorry, omfg, on and off screen romance, so on here it goes, this was on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourirpourmoi/pseuds/sourirs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan can't help but fall for Tyler just as hard as his character had.<br/>Derek loved Stiles. Tyler loved Stiles.<br/>Dylan was in love with Tyler.<br/>And it was breaking his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Couldn't Say What I Was Thinking (My Heart Shrinking)

**Author's Note:**

> i wasnt going to post this originally but it was above a certain word count  
> anyway this is the love child of trystings awesome gif making and my insomnia  
> serioulsy blame sdcc

Dylan’s fingers tap an incessant rhythm on his arm. It’s pissing the interviewer off. It's even pissing himself off.

Hoech doesn’t get pissed off.

He’s sweaty, he’s tired and he’s so fucking sexually frustrated he could scream.

Every question is a Sterek question phrased in a different way.

Every question forces memories into his mind.

Tyler laughs them off. Dylan just stares at the interviewer.

Stubble burn, Dylan thinks, and groans at the memory. Stiles and Derek’s first kiss. They didn’t practice, though they had told everybody they did. Tyler thought it would be better this way, if Dylan was surprised the sincerity would show.

Fucking Hoechlin.

Dylan remembers walking on set, Derek’s loft, three camera’s rolling. Unmanned. He remembered being confused as fuck. There was no one here.

He feels an arm slide round his waist and suddenly there’s a nose by his ear. Lips at his neck. Soft.

His heart rate rocketed. He knows because he can hear it. Hoech can hear it.

But he stayed in character. Or at least, he tried to remember how to ‘Stiles’.

Tyler flips him and pushes their bodies flush together.

UNPROFESSIONAL, he tells his excited self, thanking the lords for the tape.

Tyler- no, Derek.- Derek holds the back of his neck and mouths slowly up his neck. His eyes flutter shut at the intensity and the soft moan is out his mouth before he can stop it.

Tyler’s hand slowly travel down his spine to rest at the small of his back, just under his shirt. Dylan shivers.

"Stiles." Tyler growls. Because he’s acting. As Derek. Acting Dylan, for fuck sake.

Dylan brings his arms up and clutches on the material of Tyler’s shirt, his intent to push him away, because this has become to much. He can’t breathe. He’s so fucking turned on and he can’t even think-

"D- Derek, stop." he manages, hoping Hoech gets that he’s not acting. Hoping he understands just what his soft lips are doing to him.

"I don’t think I can." Tyler says and Dylan’s eyes widen because that. That wasn’t Derek. It didn’t sound like Derek. Please god, let that have not been Derek.

Dylan barely has time to wrap his arms around Tyler’s neck before their lips come crashing together.

His composure breaks. He tugs frantically at Tyler’s hair, moving their hips together. He’s not coherent. He’s not even thinking.

"Dy-amn it, Stiles." Tyler huffs out, lifting him on to Derek’s table. Dylan laughs, he can’t help it. This feels so real. So right. Tyler’s hands digging into his waist, his legs wrapping around Tyler’s body. Their tongues chasing each other, which, hello, was not agreed upon.

Tyler breaks the kiss, nuzzling into Dylan’s neck. Werewolf style. His head is rushing, he feels lightheaded and he’s glad he’s sat down because otherwise he’d be a puddle on the floor.

Theres a red glare in his peripheral vision and suddenly he’s aware of the mic just two feet above him. Of the camera’s. Of the stage.

Dylan lets his head drop on to Tyler’s shoulder and he grips the man with white knuckled hands.

They kissed. And it was everything he never knew he needed. But it wasn’t for him.

It would never be for him.

Just acting, Jeff’s voice tells him. Just acting, Hoech had said.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until he see’s Tyler’s shirt turn a darker shade. He doesn’t stop. He clutches onto Tyler, clutches onto that paradise he had felt.

It felt so real.

"Cut!" And Dylan slumps. Tyler moves out of his grip and even though every part of him is screaming to not let go, he doesn’t try to hold him back.

Because this wasn’t Sterek anymore. This was real.

The love he felt whenever he caught Tyler’s smile?

The flash of arousal at the sight of the man’s bare chest?

The way he needs Tyler in his life more than he could say?

It was all real.

And it hurt to know that every time the fans spoke of Stiles and Derek in the future they’d praise him for his acting, saying just how real the love in Stiles’ eyes looked. And Dylan would smile at their compliments, Tyler would crack a joke and his heart would break just a little bit more.

It was always real.

Sterek had been the best and simultaneously the worst decision of his entire life, he thinks with a lump in his throat as he recalls Tyler’s hand’s cupping his face.

It was killing him.


	2. Two Sad Sparks Blinking In The Sun (Wait One Minute)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY ENDING Y'ALL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter titles are from the song Thunder Clatter by Wild Cab. That song seriously is just Sterek. And Hobrien.

Tyler stretches his legs slightly and Dylan forces himself to look away from the way his muscles bunch under his tight pants.

He gulps and twists his body further into the aisle of the coach. Further away from fucking Tyler Hoechlin.

His heart hasn’t stopped it’s crazed beating for the full two hours they’ve been driving and probably won’t for the next two. Posey was asleep, long gone on Dan’s shoulder. Dylan wishes he could do that, wishes he could just conk out on Ty’s shoulder like he used too and not have it mean anything, not have his heart swell at the contact.

Damn Jeff and his god damn conniving ways. 

_Sit next to Hoechy, Dylan, the fans’ll love it._

Fuck you, Jeff, devil's offspring. Fuck you.

It was dark out, the only sounds on the coach coming from Charlie’s phone as he text someone, probably Keahu. Everyone was asleep, happily dreaming.

Everyone except for Tyler, that was.

Dylan groans internally at the man’s ridiculous chivalry, it was blatant he was staying up so that Dylan wouldn’t be alone.

Just sleep so I can oggle your cheekbones already, you bastard. 

It never used to be like this, Dylan thinks, for the millionth time that day. He never used to get clammy hands when Tyler’s abs were mentioned. He never used to find himself entranced by his smile.

He used to be able to laugh off Sterek, to joke around with the fans. For the fans.

But he couldn’t anymore. He couldn't freaking deny the fact that he was falling pretty hard for Hoech.

Dylan was pretty sure the guy was as straight as nails anyway, hell, Dylan had only been pulled out the closet by another mans hot lips and heavy hands. Freaking Hoech.

He sighs slightly and lets his head fall back. He just had to get over it. They were just working. Stiles loved Derek. Stiles got to have Tyler. Not Dylan.

"I think about it sometimes," says Hoech, quietly. His voice is always soft, silky. So different to his character.

"Think about what?” Dylan whispers, because for some reason the moment is intimate. The blue night light reflects one side of Tyler’s face and Dylan is struck by the man’s beauty. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips and he clenches his hands to stop himself from idly tracing it.

“Us.”

Dylan’s eye’s flash to Tyler's, his gaze held by those brilliant depths. He swallows and searches Tyler’s face, not knowing what for. Something, anything to convince his gullible heart that this was a joke, that the intensity of Tyler’s gaze was a figment of his imagination.

That the soft smile meant nothing.

Dylan can’t speak. He doesn’t even try.

“I wish that Sterek had never happened,” Tyler whisper, still stubbornly staring at him.

Dylan can feel his face drop. He can feel the impact of those words as if they were blows to his heart. His face heats and his eye’s tingle, tell-tale lump stalling his throat.

He’s such a moron. Such a fucking idiot.

This was Tyler Hoechlin, child prodigy, fucking star. Way out of Dylan’s league.

He starts to turn his head away, cheeks red with indignation, when a soft hand winds round the back of his head. It takes every fibre of he’s being to not melt into Tyler’s embrace, to not look back into the man’s eyes. 

Dylan swallows the tears down and opens his mouth to joke it off because this was too much for his heart to take and he could barely breathe through the pai-

“Because it’s going to take me a long time to convince you that I’m in love with Dylan. Not Stiles.”

Dylan lets out a shaky breath and glares at Tyler, his hands shake where they clutch onto his shirt. The relief crushes him, the affection, the fear, it all consumes him. “You freaking ass-”

His angry whispers are cut short as Tyler’s lips find his, kissing the anger straight out of him and leaving Dylan limp.

This was nothing like Stiles’ and Derek’s first kiss, a passionate frenzy, their characters (well Tyler's) needed each other like air.

No, their first kiss was gentle. Soft, brilliant, happy. And so damn Hoechlin that Dylan could barely keep the dopey grin off his face.

“I can’t believe it took Sterek to make this happen.” Dylan manages in between soft light kisses, his hands grip Tyler's shoulders and he only just manages to stifle a moan.

“I’m so glad it did.”

And Dylan is floored once again by Tyler's intensity, by his secretive smile, finally aimed at him.

He runs his fingers through Tyler’s hair and tries to kiss him through both their grins.

“Hobrien for the win,” he hears T-Pose mumble somewhere to the left but he ignores him, infatuated with how soft Tyler’s hair is.

“Hobrien is canon.”

He’s vaguely aware of someone's camera sound, just like he’s only vaguely aware of the coach full of people that happened to be awake.

All his attention is focused on Hoech. His friend. His co-star. His character's love interest.

His boyfriend.


End file.
